Dorky?
by Eagle Squad
Summary: A partly true short story about pride and revenge. Many of you people in the marching band can probably relate to the characters
1. Default Chapter

Ruby Falls High School was as American of a high school as you could get.  A school in the Atlanta, Georgia area with nearly 2000 students, it was the classic example of teenage life in the United States.  Football players and other athletes were frequently found in rehabilitation from addictions to steroids, crank, creatine, and what not.  It was not uncommon for a cheerleader to miss half of the basketball or football season for a pregnancy.  

My name is Stuart Foster and I am a senior at this particular secondary institution of learning.  My three main friends, or "allies" or "partners in crime" as we sometimes call them here, Michael Kirkpatrick, Jimmy Hopkins, and Dean Smith didn't get into the shenanigans of the other teens.  I, Kirkpatrick, and Hopkins were all ranked in the top 20 of the class of 2002 at this school, which would have easily put us among the top students in the state, given the abundance of less than intelligent rural types that inhabit this part of the country.   My third friend, Dean Smith, was a junior but was also a pretty gifted individual.  He had been given a scholarship to some fancy super-expensive art school up in New York and was also offered a job for right after high school with the St. Louis jazz ensemble.  They actually came down from St. Louis to Atlanta to hear him audition.  The starting salary for the job when he reached 18 would be somewhere between 110k and 120k a year – not many high school teens can say they had had such a job offer.

Him, I, Michael, and Jimmy all played in the Ruby Falls Marching Band.  Around here just about everyone was in some sort of extracurricular activity.  It was traditional for everyone to wear a shirt advertising their club or organization.  Your after school activities completely shaped your social status around these parts, and being in the marching band, well, we were less than respected.

Oh sure, high school and college football games just aren't the same without the sound, you say, but around here, we were considered to be a nuisance.  In the south football is religion, and naturally having a winning season for a high school football coach was like attaining salvation.  In the past some coaches would come up with the craziest excuses for not winning the game.  Some would say the lights were not bright enough – some would complain of the distraction of cheerleaders wearing revealing uniforms.  Anyways, somewhere along the line the marching bands got sacked and before we realized it we were not allowed to play while the other team had possession of the ball.

And we have still had penalties – none that made any significant difference on the outcome of the game, (I would know as my knowledge of football is rather extensive, being in the marching band.) but each referee was different and some seemed to throw a flag whenever you played a song they didn't like.  

And when we did have penalties caused, the entire home (or in case sometimes visitor, which was quite often filled; rain or shine.) side would give us all a nasty look.  (And our band director, who could be quite the jerk sometimes, acted like nothing had happened, perfectly satisfied that we were getting all the hate rather than him, but that's another story.)  As students and drunks walked by they would throw ice at us.

I rather liked football, and although I resented the irritated look the entire huddle gave us when a noise penalty flag was thrown, I wanted for the team's success.  What really rather annoyed me was some of the reactions of the cheerleaders.  As much as I have admit I have fantasized about humping one of those sugar cakes,  (I apologize if you find this in bad taste, but I must tell to you like it is exactly like it is.) they are some of my least favorite people in the whole world.  Pardon the language, but most of them were nothing but high strung, stuck up, anorexic, prissy, arrogant sluts after the attention of those preppy pretty boys that are just out to mate.

The cheerleaders, which were for the most part popular amongst the classmates but not too bright in the head, acted as if we did not exist.  To them, the entire school population was a Hindu community and we were the untouchables- the ones destined to be reincarnated to slime molds.

If you can bear with me for just a little bit longer, I will get on with the tale soon.  I have to discuss with you the most important aspect of life at Ruby Falls High School: the social cliques.  Sure.  I know you've probably had them at your high school, but I bet you didn't have them well defined as we did here.  At Ruby Falls High School, your clique, in which was determined by your money, your intelligence, and personality type, played a huge factor in school life.  It affected where you sat at lunch and where you were allowed to park your car. (Unofficially, of course)  It determined your friends, it determined your enemies, it determined what clothes you wore, what cosmetics and brands of toiletry items to use, it affected what time you showed up at the prom and other social events, it determined your chances of being elected to school office or other position.  It determined where the work study seniors gave you your locker assignment, it determined who you could date and associate with on a first name basis.  This may not sound particularly extraordinary, but in truth teens in most high schools tend to exaggerate about the separation of the cliques.  It gives them a sense of belonging to a society rather than being chicks in a nest; a feeling of independence from parental dependence.  This view of cliques depicted by the American teen would not be an exaggeration at my high school, however.

All of the students, with the exception of the ghetto students who did not need any further distinction from their trashy clothes, (pardon my snobbish social class slur, but again I feel I must tell it like it is) and the hippies, freaks, and other non-conformists who considered themselves to be a complete different species from the rest of us, everyone was religious about staying true to their clique.  Whenever a new student moved into town, if they didn't transfer to a local private school from being completely scared away, they were expected to complete long hard initiations that would last as long as a month.  The want and need to fit in of your average teen was so overwhelming, however, that they usually bared with it.

Me, my friends, and the other people that you would consider to be in my clique, namely the ones labeled "dorks", nerds, loners, and other outcasts, were not considered a clique by the others in the school but were rather considered sewer rats. (although for the most part they gave us a better treatment than the cheerleaders did)  If we parked in the wrong place, our car got egged or keyed.  Our locker assignments were always the run down lockers on the science wing.  If we tried out for a sport, regardless of whether we were the star player or the worst player on the team, we had people play cruel jokes on us until we quit.  We were the ghetto lower class peasants in the society that was the teenage population at Ruby Falls High.

Another thing that I should point out before proceeding is some peculiarities within our group.  One thing that separated the "geeks" if you will from the other human sub species (not an overstatement of the cliques in this case if I do say myself) was that we had no official female members.  Of course, there was no official membership for our clique; we accepted anyone and everyone that would join us. (which in itself is another distinction of our people, which I will explain in just a moment)  I knew that female "dorks" existed.  I have seen them.  They try to hide behind fancy cosmetics and clothes they believe are favorable to the in crowds.  Ironically, the wearing of their clothes even further separated them from the crowd they are trying to fit in with  They tag along with other groups of girls, hoping to move up into the ranks, and never do.  I've seen it happening many times before.  You really feel embarrassed for them trying to be the perky gossipy girl that is the women of the in crowd.  They stick out like sore thumbs.  The sad thing is that they actually think they belong to the group who thankfully has more manners than to send the unwelcome guest on their way.   Some of them do occasionally come by our lunch table and talk to us, feeling it is their duty to be a friend to some of the "less cool" kids.  It sickens me when they do this to me, and sometimes I just want to slap these girls, but of course as we really are in the same social clique we got along rather well.

I considered us to be the second most intelligent of the roughly twelve identified social cliques.  Above us were the intellectuals, who were near the threshold of being or not being cool.  These people got top SAT scores, the best grades, and were usually favored by most of the in crowd.  Even they themselves sometimes are unsatisfied with their social status, particularly the girls, and they usually try the sophisticated look to try and get in with the popular crowd.  Some were somewhat nerdy and talked kind of nerdy, but for the most part these you can't pick apart an intellectual from a student of average intelligence by basic appearance. 

Besides being of the most intelligent teens on the planet Ruby Falls, I also considered us of the kindest of young men.  It was not unusual for people to walk all over us.  I can recall one time in my chemistry class of my junior year the teacher had us all write our names at the top of an eight and a half by eleven inch piece of paper and pass them around the room.  When the person received the paper, they were to write down something nice about the person whose name appeared at the top of the paper.  I noticed that every male student in my class had at least one "cute" written in what was unmistakably a girl's handwriting – except me, of course.  While I did leave class with my head down, it was of no surprise.  There was a long string of "nice", "sweet", "kind" etc. on my paper, but somehow that did not make me feel better about myself, for when I found myself unable to write something nice about a classmate, I wrote "nice".

I was used to having moral reducers like these, and I could usually be cheered up by reducing the curve of a math test to under five points.  I thank the good lord for my intelligence – without it I don't think there would be anything for my classmates to respect me for.  Heck, I don't think they'd even talk to me if they didn't have me to ask math questions to.  I have often pondered what separates the out crowd individuals from the in-crowd individuals.  Although I do have a very healthy sense of humor, I leave the impression to all of the members of the in crowd as a very serious person.  

Let's face it: When some people try to act cool, they embarrass themselves.  A wise man once said that it is better to appear foolish than it is to open your mouth and remove all doubt.  Replace the word "foolish" with "dorky", and that's pretty much been my philosophy of life at Ruby Falls.  Why were we so different?  Were we more simple-minded or was it just a different personality type?  I act differently around different people.  I admit it.  I consider it bad manners to not conduct myself in a way I think I should around a given person or group.  It's because of this that people have impressions of me that vary greatly.  I know that this sounds very unhealthy of me, but I have found that doing this helps me raise my already down-in-the-dumps confidence level.  It angers me to hear someone say something along the lines of "Why can't people just accept themselves for who they are?"  I've found, to no surprise, that these are people who are typically smart, athletic, and get any date that they want.  I wouldn't mind dying next week to be able to see that person switch places with me for one week.

Well, I suppose I should get on with the tale before I get too far off on this self confidence tangent.  I've found that talking of the things that dissatisfy my about myself only worsens my mood, which may skew the viewpoint of this story that I am going to present to you.


	2. part two

It was Tuesday, four days before we were to play Johnny Harris High School in the state football championship.  The school was decorated in peach and red, the school colors. (the uniforms looked rather cool, thank you)  Me and the usual group of kids sat at the usual table in the back of the cafeteria.   Michael had his nose buried in some Nintendo magazine while Jimmy seemed to be upset about something and wasn't talking.  Dean was busy studying for a Calculus test, which he was going to have in roughly twenty minutes, after the lunch break.  I sat bored, with nothing to eat, study, or ponder over.  The table was usually engaged in lively geek conversation, which sometimes seemed embarrassing if overheard by other students but was sometimes too sophisticated for those of average wit to understand.  After a moment or so of silence, I got up and went to the snack stand to purchase a box of miniature chocolate chip cookies.  When I got back I figured I should ask Jimmy what was bothering him.

"Stuart.  I'm just a plain 'ole dork.  I'm never going to fit in and I'm never going to get a job because people don't want geeky people to be working with their clients and their customers!"

"Whoa chill." I said back to him.  It's not that big of a problem.  Jimmy handed me a rolled up copy of the school newspaper.

"Read the editorial on the third page." He said.  I turned to the third page to find a long column that nearly took up two full pages of the eight and a half by eleven inch page.  I noticed the author's name written at the top.  Brittany Singletary.  Not a cheerleader, but a popular none the less.  She like the others never spoke to us when it could be avoided but her grudge against me and the other of my ilk was extraordinary.  Last year I beat her at a debate regarding school uniforms.  She was a fashion nut and religiously defended the liberal dress code, which was one of the few dress codes in the country that permitted things like spaghetti straps and skirts with a sport bra.  She resented it greatly, and I felt not an ounce of guilt for trouncing her in the debate.  My argument was based on hard facts and hers a passionate argument about self expression –a bunch of BS if you ask me. Luckily, the conservative teachers evaluating our words did not buy her cow dung.  I almost laughed at the mere sight of her name at the top of such an editorial entitled "Teens of the 2000's".

"You're going to let the words of that brick head bring you down, Jimmy?" I said in as cheerful as a voice as I could.

"Just read it, Stuart" he said back.  "The little priss may be on to something here."

I looked back down at the long editorial.  It read:

'For those of you who have been around senior citizens, whether it be grandparents or other acquaintances, you have probably heard them say a nasty word about today's youth more than once.  It angers me greatly to hear them criticizing our generation when clearly there is little difference in our generation and theirs.  Of course, the new more liberal attitude towards education has led to some violence in our schools that was not present in their day, but they have no right to degrade our generation as they do.  Many old people are not exposed to normal teens, and are given the wrong picture.'

I skimmed the next few paragraphs, not caring to read what was something about the definition of a normal teen.  I began reading with full attention when I noticed there was a mention of the Ruby Falls High School Marching Band.

'While many of these "geeks" assemble into mafia and separate themselves from the crowd, man can be found in the organization of the Ruby Falls Marching Band.  I don't want to create any generalizations, but has anyone been around any of these people?  You can sometimes feel more embarrassed for them than you can feel for yourself.  They are really nothing but an embarrassment to the entire school when we have football games and there are people from other schools in the state that are watching them.  Need I remind you that our school also hosts the North Georgia Marching Festival?  It is embarrassing to be breathing the air of a school that hosts such an event.  Call me a radical, but I think students such as these need to be sent to alternative schools, where they can either learn to live as normal human beings, or stay out of our civilized society,  it would certainly solve some of the problems of school violence, and the bad images of today's teens would go away.'

Well to say that this infuriated me would be an understatement.  We give teenagers a bad name?  Is it or is it not us "geeks" that are getting pregnant, drinking beer, smoking pot, and rebelling against authority figures in any way possible?  Of course we were still far from sin free, but I just knew that if every teen in the world was like us, then teenagers would have a MUCH better image in the eyes of the elders than they do now!

 "Guys" I said that historic day at the lunch table.  "This calls for some action.  They have done some pretty nasty things to us, I think it's high time we got a little vengeance.  What do you say?"

"We could go around the school shooting cap guns to give 'em a scare." Michael said.

"Don't even joke about joking about that." I said in a serious tone.  "I know a way we can get them good.  It's perfectly legal…and we may actually get some praise for this…"

"Sounds darn good to me" said Michael.  Even Dean's mood seemed to perk up at the sound of this.

"Well" I began "I'm not supposed to know this, but someone has a copy of the key to the underground gym.  After the game Friday they are secretly throwing a huge party down there…practically all the populars as well as many of the other influential people will be there.  It's going to be a huge celebration…they are going to have a beer drinking contest- free cigars- you name it.  Well of course we aren't invited – like we'd want to go to that idiot convention in the first place…anyway, this is criminal trespass you know, but they won't get caught, unless…someone who knows about this party squeals to the police.  Are you catching my drift guys?"

"Loud and clear Stuart" said Michael.  He and the other boys had maniacal smiles on their faces.  We left for lunch that day in high spirits.

For the remaining three days before the big game, football fever had struck pretty much the entire school.  Everyone was excited, including some who usually were not into sports, a good indicator that they were just going to get into the top secret lock-in they were having in the gym.  I have heard many of the high in crowd people talking of "the celebration" and I knew they must be discussing the party.  It was a very big deal to be getting an invitation to "the celebration".  It meant you were among "the coolest".  Left and right rumors were flying about the people organizing it, people planning to crash it, events going on at it, and people who knew nothing of it were also trying to speculate of where this party would be held. With every conversation I overheard regarding the party, I grew more excited as I was going to fry them or underage drinking, criminal trespass; and not to mention the felony of having an illegal copy of the gym's door key.

The band was pretty excited too, as most of them were football lovers, with the exception of the really gifted players, who usually weren't quite as in to the game as they were the music.  Apparently Michael had let a few others in on our plan, and I wasn't real worried as I trusted the involved.  I did confront him and made sure he was careful who he discussed it with, as obviously if anyone found out about our plan it would be ruined.

The day of the big game finally came.  None of the teachers bothered in trying to teach a lesson, as the excitement of the upcoming game was just too tremendous.  The faculty seemed to notice the greater than usual amount of excitement but thought nothing of it.  Me and my comrades were also anxious to get the party on, so we could get to see the looks on their pathetic faces when they were carried away in hand cuffs.

That night at the game the stadium was packed and many people had to stand on both sidelines and in both end zones.  We made sure to play our songs extra loud, so as to try and piss the cheerleaders off.  While we did have three penalties called on us, it meant exactly squat as the team went on to win 51-13.  Me and my friends told our parents we were going to an activity at the church, and at midnight we made our move.

"Yes I'm calling to report trespassers at the Ruby Falls High School Gymnasium."  We stayed out of sight in the student parking lot.  Within five minutes a single police car arrived.  An officer got out of his cruiser, looked into the overhead window of the gym, said something into his radio, and got back into his car.

"Dammit!" yelled Jimmy out loud.  "He must not have seen anything!"  But that couldn't have been true.  The officer was standing there, as if waiting for something to happen.  

"No" I said.  "Jimmy, I think he's calling for…backup!"

"Sweet!" he said and we all exchanged high fives.  Sure enough, moments later, roughly a dozen or so patrol cars pulled into the student parking lot, blue lights lighting up the area.  The officers armed themselves and broke the locked door into the gym.  The slight thumping noise you could hear from the base of the party music stopped.  Moments later they emerged again with all of the students with their hands on their heads.  We used our binoculars.  It was just as sweet as we imagined.  All of them who had shunned us as being inferior had had their arrogant and rebelling attitudes catch up with them.  I, Michael, Jimmy, Dean, and several other guys that were in the marching band were going out of our mind with joy.  Revenge was so sweet…and to think we can be good citizens and still get away with frying those preppy people.

I know it is a great sin to wish bad fortune on anyone or to delight in anyone's bad times, but it was so sweet to see the demoralized in-crowd bummed out for the next two weeks.  I did not feel an ounce of guilt as it was they who brought it on themselves.  In that one night there were 36 arrests for underage drinking, 52 counts for underage possession of tobacco products, 6 counts of possession of illegal drugs, and 73 counts of criminal trespass.  The story of course made the Atalanta newspaper, the "Atlanta Journal Constitution" and I had it framed and placed on the wall in my room.  I still to this day do not regret this deed.  As a matter of fact, it is one of the great highlights of my young life.

Now that this tale is concluded, allow me to get back to the philosophical aspect of all of this.  If you are a "geek", and it takes a real big person to admit he or even she is one, try to be proud of it.  You are of the most intelligent and kind people that there is.  Except for what remains for us in the afterlife, there is nothing greater a mortal man or woman can have than intelligence.  In a civilized society, the intelligent rule…period.  You are among the most intelligent living things on this planet…this entire freaking planet.  And do not be ashamed of being involved in the marching band. You have to be pretty darn intelligent to be successful in it, and sometimes those cheerleaders just don't have what it takes.  I certainly hope the football band program at your school gets more respect than they do here, but just in case you ever get mocked for it, remember this.


End file.
